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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27513445">left unsaid</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueGirl22/pseuds/BlueGirl22'>BlueGirl22</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Drabble, M/M, Missing Scene, at 4:30 am I was possessed by jane austen and could only think "hng. hands. silent love confession.", okay I know technically a drabble means 100 words but this is too short to just be Normal so idk</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-08 04:22:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>623</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27513445</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueGirl22/pseuds/BlueGirl22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In the minutes before leaving for Great Yarmouth, Martin and Jon catch each other in a hallway. They talk, and also they don't.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>59</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>left unsaid</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s dark out on August the fifth when the Archives lurch into action.</p><p>No one else is in the building at this time, it’s just the six of them in the basement and Elias on the top level. It doesn’t feel right, making such a racket of loading bags into a rented van at such a quiet hour. It doesn’t feel quite real, almost dreamlike. Like The Unknowing is leaking backwards through time, slowing and stilling reality.</p><p></p><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="">
    <p>Martin’s been told he can go back to sleep countless times by everyone who sees him hovering in the corridor amongst the commotion, but he hasn’t got the slightest intention of missing them. Missing <em>him</em>.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Jon’s hard to pin down, making trips to and from the waiting van faster than his exhausted looking body should be able to take him, but Martin isn’t really in any position to talk. Time ticks on, the bags of explosives get fewer and fewer, and Martin thinks that if he doesn’t make a move to keep Jon still then he could miss his last chance to talk to him.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Last chance <em>before the trip</em>. Not <em>last chance.</em></p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Martin turns to go seek him out and finds himself almost nose to nose with the man himself. He jumps backwards an inch by reflex.</p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” says Jon.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No, it’s fine.” Martin runs his hands over his shirt. “I was just about to look for you, actually. To say good--<em>luck.</em> To say good luck with the mission.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Jon’s eyes travel up and down his face. “Yes?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yes. so--” he laughs, a touch awkward-- “good luck with the mission.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Thank you. Uh, you, too. Good luck, that is. With holding down the Archives.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’ll be fine.” And, because it feels like the natural next thing to do, Martin holds out his hand to shake. Jon takes it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Will you?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His skin is a mixture of rough with scars and smooth with the lasting affects of time in the Circus, even though Martin knows the hours Jon pretends he didn't spend in the Archives bathroom trying to wash himself of it afterwards. There must have been an enchanted element in the lotion they used, because there’s something almost magnetic about touching him, like Martin can’t move away. “Yes, I will.” He gives their hands a quick pump up and down. “And you will be, too.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Martin--”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You <em>will,</em> alright?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Jon swallows. “Alright.” His turn to shake their hands.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Now, what were <em>you</em> looking for <em>me</em> for?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I...” he trails off, looking down at where they touch and slowly bringing his other hand over to clasp the back of Martin’s. It’s just as magnetic as the first. It feels natural and right as Jon’s thumb runs over the back of his knuckles and smooths over his dry skin, gently pressing into his flesh, like it's simply a continuation of the conversation. This isn’t a handshake. But it wouldn't make sense if it still were.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Jon looks up and catches Martin straight in the eyes. He doesn’t say a word.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Neither does Martin. He squeezes Jon’s fingers.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Jon squeezes back.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Martin nods. Hundreds of words he could say run themselves over in his mind, but none of them feel right, not now. Besides, they've already told each other all they need. “I’ll see you on Monday, yeah?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Abruptly, Jon pulls his hands back. “Sure."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>In his mind's eye, Martin takes that soft, scarred hand of Jon’s and lifts it to his lips. “Now go blow up some clowns.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Jon laughs. “I will.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>With that, he goes off towards the back stairs to the street entrance. Martin imagines he hears the van start up over the blood pumping through his ears.</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you most solemnly for your time, you may also find me <a href="https://bisexual-evanhansen.tumblr.com/">here</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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